


moments that the words don’t reach

by poisedwalrus



Series: not only plan but also believe [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Presumed Dead, learn to live with the unimaginable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-19 12:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisedwalrus/pseuds/poisedwalrus
Summary: Tony’s standing in the entranceway, looking terrible. His face is scratched, and he still has the Iron Man suit on. It’s covered in dust."May,” Tony says hoarsely.“Where’s Peter?” May asks. She steps out of the doorway to let him in.Tony doesn’t move. Instead, he says, “…You’ll want to sit down for this.”Tony thinks that Peter dying is the worst thing that could happen.Then he stays dead.(Set between “to win this fight, side by side” and “when the sun and moon and stars are gone,” overlapping with the latter)





	1. i don’t pretend to know

**Author's Note:**

> At last, I reveal why this series has been limited to Peter's POV so far: I do not know how to write the other characters.
> 
> The summary is adapted from Donald Hall’s “Distressed Haiku.”

It’s over.

Stephen should be happy. Or satisfied, at least, when he tells the assorted scientists and superheroes that Thanos is gone. There’s no sign of him as far as the Eye of Agamotto can see.

Captain America presses a hand to his eyes. Black Widow’s face is as smooth and cold as marble. The Winter Soldier clenches his jaw, and the Falcon puts his head in his hands. Tony Stark is pale and trembling. Deadpool storms out of the lab. 

They’ve won.

It’s a miracle for a war to have only one casualty.

But, as Stephen watches the Avengers try to debrief and pull a damage control plan together while they’re still shaky with shock and grief, he notes that it doesn’t feel like a miracle. Not at all.

Stephen had known Spider-Man for all of fifteen minutes. During that time, Spider-Man had yelled at him, tripped him, stomped on the Cloak of Levitation, and tracked footprints all over the Sanctum Sanctorum’s ceiling. Stephen shouldn’t be affected by his loss, and there’s no reason for him to stay around and mourn. 

Thanos is gone, and the Time Stone is safe. He has accomplished what he needed to accomplish.

Still, when Tony Stark flags him down in the hallway just as he’s about to leave, Stephen turns and waits.

Stark looks shell-shocked, but his voice is surprisingly steady. Perhaps it’s because he hasn’t yet realized that he’s still covered in dust. 

“Look,” he says, low and intense. “I don’t have any dragon scales or funky magical  _ Harry Potter _ books lying around, but I’m assuming modern wizards take USD, too, so— Listen. I will offer you any amount of money, if you keep looking for the kid.”

Stephen sighs and says, “There is no sign that—“

“Anything,” Stark interrupts. “I’ll give you anything. Money, women, men— I still have pull at the Pentagon— I can get you—“

“He’s gone, Stark.”

“You can’t know that!” Stark says, pushing up into Stephen’s space. Up close, Stark looks unhinged. He smells like ashes. “You didn’t see— Thanos had these illusions, planted them straight in our brains with those fucking magical rocks of yours. How do you know that he didn’t just— magic the kid away or—“

“Was he your ward?” Stephen asks.

Stark stops mid-sentence. His pupils jitter. He works his jaw, then turns his head to the floor.

“He’s my kid,” Stark says roughly.

Stephen nods.

At Metro-General, Stephen had been a top surgeon. He’d been one of the top surgeons in the world. However, no surgeon has a perfect record. 

Stephen had never been great at explaining what had happened to the family, but that doesn’t mean he never learned to do it.

He looks Stark in the eyes.

“It is said that the Infinity Stones are the last remains of an omnipotent being,” Stephen says evenly. “Regardless, they are entangled in a way that makes it possible for users of the stones to be— aware of each other, so to speak. Thanos was regularly exerting the powers of three Infinity Stones. Even while I wasn’t actively looking for him, his presence felt like a beacon. As such, if Thanos was still in this universe, I would be able to sense him, even without searching.” 

Stephen pauses to make sure Stark understands where he’s going with this. Judging by the slowly dawning devastation on his face, he does. 

“I can’t find any trace of Thanos’s presence,” Stephen says. “He is no longer here.”

Stark’s expression is frozen.

What Stephen hasn’t told him is that if Thanos is dead, then Spider-Man cannot be alive. Assuming that what Captain America and Black Widow described had been accurate, then when Thanos left, he took Spider-Man with him.

Stephen doesn’t have to say it. 

Stark is a genius. He already knows.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Stephen says, stepping back and summoning a portal, “I still have business to attend to.“

“Wait—“ Stark staggers forward. “Strange, get back h—“

“I am sorry for your loss.”

Stephen closes the portal behind himself. He shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh. 

It never gets easier.

Wong is waiting for him in the lobby of the Sanctum.

“What took you so long?” he asks.

“The bereaved,” Stephen grunts.

“Ah.”

Wong bows his head. 

Stephen examines the damage to the Sanctum and resolutely refuses to look at the ceiling.

“Old men start wars, and young men die in them.” Wong says quietly. “Truthfully, it’s a miracle that only— Where are you going?”

“I have to meditate,” Stephen says, as he trudges up the stairs. The Cloak of Levitation floats after him.

“You’re fixing the windows in the morning!” Wong calls.

Stephen ignores him. 

He slams the door to his room shut and looks out the window, at the glittering lights of the city. He wonders how many people know how close they came to death today. He wonders how many will know who saved them tomorrow.

He wonders if they’ll remember Spider-Man.

Stephen shakes his head.

He knows that Wong is right. This is a victory. Thanos is gone, and the threat to the universe has been resolved. The Sanctum Sanctorum is intact, if short a few windows, and nothing important has been damaged. He and Wong are uninjured. The Time Stone is safe. 

This is a victory.

Stephen slumps onto the floor in front of his bed. It’s late at night, and the day has been long. He gives himself a moment to lean against the mattress and close his eyes.

Then, he sits up straight and calls on the power of the Time Stone.

He searches.


	2. if i could trade his life for mine

Peter’s late coming home from school again.

May’s very tempted to call the police. But, they don’t have police in space, do they? Not ones who answer 911, at least. 

May sighs, pressing her hand to her forehead, and listens to Peter’s voicemail again. Her fucking kid. He better be busy bringing her the best moon rock he’s ever seen.

Parenting a teenage vigilante isn’t easy. May’s been up all night. She’s stressed, her hair’s falling out, and she’ll have to call in sick today. Once Peter gets back, he’s really going to hear it from her. He’s going to be grounded until he’s forty. This is the last field trip he’s going on ever, if she has anything to say about it.

May places her glasses onto the kitchen table and grinds the heels of her palms into her eyes. 

She groans.

Why does it always have to be secret superhero missions? Why can’t it ever be a secret date? Or secretly ditching homework to spend a night out with friends?

May’s blood pressure would be a lot lower if her kid was just a little less good.

Then, there’s a knock on the door.

Finally.

May leaps up. She’s yelling even before she gets the door open.

“Space, Peter? I swear to God y— Oh.”

Tony’s standing in the entranceway, looking terrible. His face is scratched, and he still has the Iron Man suit on. It’s covered in dust.

“May,” Tony says hoarsely.

“Where’s Peter?” May asks. She steps out of the doorway to let him in.

Tony doesn’t move. Instead, he says, “…You’ll want to sit down for this.”

May’s heart stutters.

“Tony?” she asks, backing away from the door. “What happened? Is— Did Peter get hurt?”

“May…” Tony follows her in, pressing her into the couch. He collapses into the seat next to her. He won’t meet her eyes.

“Tell me what happened,” May says, voice strained. He’s still not looking at her. Why won’t he look at her? “Tony.” 

Tony’s staring at the photos on the mantelpiece. Peter developed the shots from his wedding two weeks ago. They’re gorgeous. Peter’s got talent. May’s going to encourage him to take a photography course this summer.

“Tell me,” May repeats.

Tony swallows visibly. He clenches his jaw and looks down at the rug.

“He’s gone.”

May’s mind goes blank.

After two seconds—“What do you mean ‘gone’?” she demands. “You— Did you lose my kid?! In outer space?!”

Tony’s shaking his head. Then he’s just shaking.

May’s whole world is going dark. 

“He— He was amazing, May,” Tony says, staring down at his hands. “So brave. He’s the reason we were able to take down this genocidal maniac alien— He came up with this plan— and we’d won. We were winning. We won. And then—“

“Don’t say it,” May whispers.

“— I got cocky. Wanted to get my one-liner in. Thanos had one last trick up his sleeve, I guess. And he— He’d seen how good Peter was. God, he was the best of us.”

“Stop. Don’t.”

“I’m so sorry, May.” Tony finally looks up. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” May says. “No, no, no, no, no—“

Tony couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d come in and shot her in the heart. May would take twenty more alien invasions over this. But only the ones where she could go out to fight instead of Peter.

God, Peter.

May can’t breathe. She presses a hand to her chest, gripping her sweater.

“Where is he?” she asks.

“May?”

“Where is he? I want to see him. I want to see Peter. Where is he?”

Where’s her kid? Where did he go?

“…There’s no body,” Tony says quietly. “Thanos turned him to dust.”

Dust.

Peter. Dust.

“Oh,” May breathes.

That’s all that’s left of him.

“—He was so brave, May,” Tony’s still talking. His voice is thick. “So brave. And— There’s this wizard on Bleecker Street. I don’t— There’s still a chance—“

“Tony,” May says calmly. The tears are blurring her vision. “I want to be alone right now.”

Tony hesitates. 

“May—“

“Get out. Get out of my house,” May doesn’t even sound like herself anymore. She can’t recognize her own voice. “Please. Go.”

Tony stands.

May doesn’t move. She can’t stop looking at his boots.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says.

He closes the door behind himself.

May staggers up off the couch. She’ll have to call Tony later and apologize. He’s the kind of man who self-immolates in guilt. It’s something that Peter’s been working with him on. Peter asked her for advice about that just last week. Her kind, wonderful kid. He makes so many plans that May questions if he ever gets any sleep.

But, that’s not a problem he has to deal with anymore.

May gasps, eyes burning. Every second feels like another knife in her heart.

She leans against the wall, unable to support herself. The apartment feels huge. It was never meant to hold just one person.

After Ben passed, May tried to stay strong for Peter. That lasted for about two weeks. Several days after the funeral and a little after midnight, she rushed into Peter’s room in hysterics, and she woke him up by grabbing him, shaking him, hugging him, and telling him to never ever leave her.

“Promise me!” May demanded.

“I promise!” Peter replied, eyes wide and confused. 

May knew she was scaring him, but she couldn’t stop shaking. Peter held onto her until morning. That was truly the day when she realized how grown up he was. Her little boy. He’d become so brave and strong.

Her little boy.

Where did he go?

Slowly, May makes her way to Peter’s room.

Over the next couple months, May lives in a fog. She mourns. She cries. She loses her job. She moves. It feels like the grief gets heavier every day. 

Mornings are the worst. At least she sees Peter in her dreams, and for a few moments, she can pretend that he’s not lost to her forever.

May listens to Peter’s last message over and over and over again. She memorizes every pause, every little hitch in his breath, the way he says “Love you” before telling her goodbye.

Her little boy.

She would give anything to hold him one more time.


	3. and we keep living anyway

“What the fuck is this?”

Jessica slaps a piece of paper onto the bar top. Danny flips it over, then quickly recoils. 

Peter Parker’s awkward little face grimaces up at all four of them.

“It’s a missing child poster,” Luke says quietly, “for Peter Parker. Age fifteen, DOB August tenth, 2001. Last seen in Queens, New York, on May eighth. It looks like they used a yearbook photo.”

Matt dips his head.

Jessica throws herself into a barstool and grabs a bottle of the whiskey Luke’s been hoarding. No point in saving it now.

“What’s going on with this?” Danny asks.

“There wasn’t a body,” Matt explains. “Legally, he can’t be— There can’t be a declaration.”

“Bullshit.” Jessica shakes her head and then takes two gulps directly from the bottle. “Can’t go three blocks without bumping into a Spider-Man memorial.”

“You know that’s different,” Luke says. He passes her a glass. She pours two fingers and then shoves it back over to him. 

Luke gives Jessica a look, but she ignores it. It’s been a week since Tony Stark and Captain America held that goddamn press conference, and while jogging this morning, she saw another kid crying over one of those piles of flowers that have appeared on every street corner. This one was dotted with notes, too. Stories about Spider-Man. 

After that kid left, still sobbing, Jessica went over and read some of them. All of them. 

Jessica drinks another mouthful of whiskey. She needs this today.

“We should have gone with him,” Danny says. He wipes his eyes.

“Judging by what Captain America said, Thanos targeted Spider-Man specifically,” Matt replies. Jessica doesn’t understand how he can sound so fucking clinical about this, but then again, the sunglasses cover a lot. “We probably wouldn’t have been much help.”

“We could have kept him from going,” Luke offers. 

“You’re an idiot if you think we could’ve kept that kid from doing anything,” Jessica says. She still remembers that time she bumped into the kid walking with a troupe of middle schoolers, and he told her they were heading to Tweed Courthouse to hunt ghosts.  _ Ghosts.  _

When she asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, he told her that he wasn’t going to let these kids get hurt by any vengeful spirits.

_ “Ghosts aren’t real, Spider-Man.” _

_ “You don’t know that! And— And the burden of proof’s on us, so— Oh, sorry— Yeah, I’m coming! I gotta go, Miss Jones. I’ll bring you some more cookies tomorrow if I don’t get cursed by a demon!” _

Jesus. That fucking kid. 

She can’t believe he’s gone.

“If there’s no body,” Danny is saying, “he could still be out there.”

“There’s no body because he got fucking obliterated,” Jessica snaps. “They couldn’t even bring anything back. There’s nothing left.”

Danny flinches. Luke puts a hand on his shoulder. 

Matt’s head is bowed.

The missing child poster stares up at them mockingly.

Jessica drops her forehead onto the bar top.

It makes her sick, how criminals and politicians get to sit around and live long, prosperous lives while kids like Peter Parker are saving the world and getting murdered on alien planets. This world is revolting. The entire universe is a shithole.

But, that kid still acted like every moment was a gift. When he was around, everything became kinder.

Jessica wonders what he could’ve done, if he’d had more time. 

He left behind a whole bunch of adults with too fucking much of it, that’s for sure.

Jessica closes her eyes.

“...What do we do now?” Danny asks quietly.

The four of them sit in silence.

Then, Matt says, “Keep on defending New York. Clean-up in Greenwich Village is still ongoing, and someone should touch base with Frank, too, to see if— how he’s doing. We’ll set up regular patrols in Queens. I’m sure we all have the time to spare for—“ 

“—doing our own dry cleaning,” Luke mutters.

Jessica lets out an ugly snort.

“—taking on some extra responsibility,” Matt finishes stonily. He’s facing the missing child poster. Even though he can’t see it, Jessica knows that he knows it’s there.

Luke pours them all a drink.

“So, we’ll take care of what he wanted to protect,” Danny summarizes. “That— I guess that’s all we can do for him now.”

“Besides making it through the day,” Jessica says. “And the next one. And the next.”


	4. just a legacy to protect

NEW YORK CELEBRATES ITS SECOND ANNUAL SPIDER-MAN DAY

_ How the loss of a local superhero brought a community together. _

QUEENS, New York — When you see the fleet of Stark drones descend upon the city tomorrow morning, do not be alarmed. These creepy crawlies are not part of a new attack on New York. If it isn’t obvious from the red and blue paint, then the distribution of fruit and water to the homeless population will be a clear indicator: These bots are simply a new addition to the second coming of Spider-Man Day.

“They definitely weren’t part of our original vision,” said Michelle Jones, 18. “But leave it to Tony Stark to make a show out of everything.”

“Dude,” reprimanded Ned Leeds, 18. 

“We’re grateful to Stark Industries for taking on the responsibilities of organizing and funding Spider-Man Day,” Ms. Jones amended. “But, I still think having actual people would’ve been better than drones.”

“Spider-Man had drones,” Mr. Leeds pointed out.

“Spider-Man didn’t sit around and make his drones rescue cats from trees,” Ms. Jones said, with the air of someone who had restated this argument on multiple occasions.

As the co-founders of Spider-Man Day, Ms. Jones and Mr. Leeds have spent years debating what Spider-Man’s legacy should be. After the Attack on Greenwich Village, all of New York mourned the loss of Spider-Man, but the students of Midtown School of Science and Technology, such as Ms. Jones and Mr. Leeds, were particularly affected.

“Spider-Man saved us once before in DC,” Mr. Leeds explained. “But, that’s not all he did, you know? He was the kind of guy who’d help pick up your stuff if someone bumped into you, or he’d walk you home or just stop and talk to you if you looked sad. Even though he was, like, this awesome superhero, he always had time to help out the little guy.”

“Most vigilantes are motivated by the desire to protect their communities, and they adapt their philosophies from our criminal justice system,” Ms. Jones noted. “They’re punitive. They try to deter crime. In many ways, they’re jaded. You could always tell that Spider-Man wasn’t like that. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

This is an anecdotal truth. One can hardly bump into a New Yorker who doesn’t have a Spider-Man story. They more often involve backflips and lost pets than violence or bumps in the night, a peculiarity that made Spider-Man the uncommon type of vigilante whom hardly anyone feared. During his year and a half of activity, both the crime and incarceration rate in Queens decreased by fifteen percent, and other boroughs were similarly affected, though not to such an extent.

“He just wanted to help,” Mr. Leeds said.

“Friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man,” Ms. Jones summarized.

This moniker was the inspiration for Spider-Man Day’s slogan: Spread a little friendliness in your neighborhood. Besides encouraging people to help each other, Mr. Leeds and Ms. Jones also wanted to bring together community organizations and local authorities, allowing New Yorkers to get in touch with their administration. Above all, their goal was to commemorate Spider-Man by extending his work in taking care of the city. 

“He was more than our hero,” Mr. Leeds added. “He was our friend. So, we wanted to honor him, I guess.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be forgotten,” Ms. Jones said.

“We didn’t expect it to blow up this much, though,” Mr. Leeds admitted.

Spider-Man Day was originally conceived as a school event. With the encouragement and support of Midtown’s principal and Academic Decathlon team, it quickly became much bigger than that. Funding came from sources all around New York, with Rand Industries and Luke Cage’s Harlem’s Paradise being some of the more notable examples. The end result was a county fair in Queens, complete with games, food, demonstrations by firefighters, workshops hosted by community organizations, and a miniature petting zoo sponsored by local animal shelters.

However, Spider-Man Day will be even bigger and better this year, if Stark Industries has anything to say about it. 

“We’re honored to be the main sponsor and organizer of Spider-Man Day going forward,” said a spokesperson. “We hope to further preserve and celebrate Spider-Man’s legacy.”

It was tough, handing over the reigns to Spider-Man Day. Mr. Leeds admitted to having had numerous arguments with Ms. Jones over who could take on the responsibility of hosting an event that was so meaningful to them. 

“In the end, we thought Stark Industries had the best resources,” Mr. Leeds said. “And Iron Man and Spider-Man were close, so. I think he’s one of the only other people in New York who really gets what kind of person Spider-Man was.”

Ms. Jones stayed silent on the subject. The handover of Spider-Man Day to Stark Industries was obviously a difficult decision, but Mr. Leeds and Ms. Jones didn’t have much of a choice. Mr. Leeds is heading to MIT in the fall, and Ms. Jones is flying out to Stanford. They won’t be able to pull off the level of community organization that Spider-Man Day requires.

“But, I’m definitely gonna come back for it every year, even if I have to skip a final,” Mr. Leeds said.

Ms. Jones agreed. “Someone has to make sure Stark does right by him.”

Tomorrow, New York will have been without its friendly neighborhood Spider-Man for two full years. Mr. Leeds and Ms. Jones don’t see it that way, though.

“I don’t really like saying it like that. And I don’t think that’s exactly true, either. We did our best to make sure that didn’t become true, anyway. To me, he’s still here.” Mr. Leeds said, as he placed a hand over his heart.

At that, Ms. Jones visibly rolled her eyes.

Nonetheless, she added, “Even though he isn’t here anymore, he’s still here.”

“He’s still here.”


	5. and if there's a reason i'm still alive

They’ve got him on keychains now.

And shirts. And backpacks. And hats and posters and a big, shiny billboard, right in the middle of his turf. Wade wonders if the parents would be less pleased as punch about their kids wearing Spider-Man colors if they knew that it really had been a kid in that suit.

One and a half years of good service, but it’s the horrifying death that gets him propelled to icon status. Next thing you know, he’ll be popping up in Party City.

Wade swings his feet, knocking his heels against the top of the building across from the Spider-Man Day billboard. They’re playing a compilation of Spidey swinging around New York carrying various animals. The llama one is very impressive. Why didn’t Spidey tell him about that?

Oh, right. Because he’s dead.

“Deadpool,” Daredevil says, popping up behind him like the creepy ninja-gecko he is. “It’s been a while.”

“You know how it goes, Red,” Wade shovels the last of the Spidey-Berry sherbet into his mouth, then pulls down his mask. “Traveling’s part of the job.”

“You’ve been accepting contracts again.” Daredevil sounds very disapproving.

Wade shrugs.

“Well, that’s what happens when your morality pet gets murked by a fucking alien warlord. You fall off the wagon.”

Wade’s feeling pretty prepared to get a stop-accepting-hits lecture from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but he’s sadly disappointed when Daredevil doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just goes and stands beside Wade at the edge of the roof, surveying the street below them.

“He would’ve loved this,” Daredevil says.

“Yeah, well, he’s dead, so you don’t know that.”

Even Wade, who has a direct hook-up with death, doesn’t know how Spidey feels about all of this. The one time he went to visit Death after all the Thanos bullshit went down, she refused to call Spidey up for him. Refused to let Wade see him.

Wade got pissed. And he knows that you ain’t supposed to hold grudges against ladies, but you’re also not supposed to murder kids, especially kids who’re so good that they spend their free time helping everyone out, instead of playing video games or watching porn or taking down helicarriers or whatever it is that kids do these days.

So, after that, Wade decided to spend his time sending Death the ugliest motherfuckers he could, until he realized that he was also sending those ugly motherfuckers to wherever Spidey was resting.

Now Wade makes sure to tell them not to fuck with Spider-Man, before he sends them on their way.

Wade wishes he could go with them. He misses his friend.

It’s been three years to the day.

“They need to add more sugar to the sherbet,” Wade comments. “It’s too sour. He didn’t like sour shit.”

“You can submit suggestions,” Daredevil offers. “They have a website.”

Wade shrugs.

Doesn’t matter anyway.

But, Daredevil’s still feeling chatty. “Spider-Man was a good soul,” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re not getting about this,” Wade says tiredly. “But, it doesn’t matter how good he was. Everyone knows he was good.” Wade spreads his arms, gesturing to the whole Spider-Man Day fair. “Being good doesn’t make him undead. Believing that he was the best thing since sliced bread won’t make him come back. He’s not a fairy. He’s Peter Pan.”

Daredevil turns his head towards Wade. If looks could kill, Wade would still be alive, because that’s how his whole fucking thing works.

“He’d be disappointed in you,” Daredevil says.

Wade doesn’t flinch.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies. “Even if he is, I’m never gonna hear about it.”

“Why is that important?” Daredevil asks. “Why does it matter if he’s gone? You still know what he’d think. You know what he’d want you to do.”

Wade pleads the Fifth.

“Spider-Man’s friends organized this fair for him,” Daredevil continues. “They—“

“—wanted to honor him, wanted to make sure no one forgot him, wanted to preserve his legacy, blah blah blah. I read the news, too, you know.”

“Then I don’t understand why we need to have this conversation.”

“‘Cause I get how fucking death works, Bondage Satan. Spidey is not ‘still here.’”

Wade would know. He’s looked.

“Death doesn’t work on you, though, does it?” Daredevil says evenly. “On the off chance that Spider-Man does return, do you want him to see you like this?”

Wade hesitates.

“Spidey’s dead,” he says. “I saw him fucking disintegrate.”

Daredevil shrugs.

“You’re an immortal mercenary. Many believe that I’m literally the Devil from scripture. Do you really believe that there’s no chance he’ll come back?”

And then, after dropping that pearl of wisdom, Daredevil parkours off the building like the dramatic bitch he is.

“I know you’re just trying to make me stop unaliving people,” Wade yells after him. “And it is not working!”

Daredevil doesn’t respond. He disappears into the tail of the Spider-Man Day crowd, blending right in.

Wade crosses his arms and sulks.

It is not working.

It is  _ not _ working.

Wade will not be manipulated like this.

Across the street, the billboard is now showing some of Spidey’s greatest hits. Literal hits. All of them involve him swinging into birds. He actually apologizes to a pigeon in one video.

A  _ pigeon.  _

Those are the rats of the fucking sky.

That kid was insane. And not just because he made a hobby out of aggressively befriending supers twice his age.

What would he think of Wade now?

What would he think?

Fuck.

Wade sighs.

Fucking Daredevil.

It’s working.

Wade pulls out his cellphone.

“Hey, Colossus! You still posting jobs on Craigslist?”


	6. take the children to church on sunday

The door next to Morgan’s room has been closed since before she was born.

Morgan’s curious about it. After watching  _ Monsters, Inc _ ., she once asked Pepper if there was a monster behind that door.

Pepper didn’t know what to say. Personally, she does believe that there is a monster hiding in that room. 

When May moved, she didn’t take much with her. Photo albums, paperwork, Peter’s notebooks, a camera. Without her boys, she told Pepper, all the rest was just things.

Tony offered to put those things into storage for her. May refused. Tony offered again, more insistently this time. Perhaps May also saw something desperate in his face, because, in the end, half of her apartment was stored securely in a facility upstate. The other half slowly made its way into the lake house.

_ “Are you sure? We could still turn it into a lab space.” _

_ “Nah, that’s what garages are for. Besides, the kid’s gonna be over pretty often, and it’s a long drive back to the city. I hope you’re ready for some serious sci-fi slumber parties.” _

_ “Maybe I’ll invite May out on a girls’ night.” _

_ “Hey, I know you secretly want to watch A New Hope for the fourth time—“ _

For the first half of her pregnancy, Pepper refuses to go into that room. However, she can’t walk past it without pausing to look, and she can’t look at it without wanting to cry.

Eventually, Tony learns to keep the door shut.

Pepper knows that whatever sorrow she feels must only be a fraction of what Tony feels, only a fraction of a fraction of what May feels. She can’t even fathom what it would be like to lose Morgan. 

But, that doesn’t mean she finds it easy. And it never gets any easier.

Morgan helps. She helps all of them, in many ways. The pregnancy is difficult, with Tony locking himself away with anything and everything Peter left behind, but Pepper gets May out of her new, empty studio by asking her if she’ll accompany her to doctor’s appointments and Lamaze classes in Tony’s stead. They eat brunch, they shop for baby clothes, they talk about their kids. They talk about Peter. At some point May meets with Tony and manages to kick him into gear, so Pepper doesn’t have to spend the last two months before Morgan arrives questioning whether her marriage will survive the loss of a child. 

When Tony holds Morgan for the first time, he doesn’t cry, but the awe in his eyes is mixed with the grief of what could have been. After everything May’s told her, Pepper knows that Peter would’ve been a wonderful big brother.

But, how should she explain Peter to Morgan? How can she explain the painful void in their lives to a child who’s never known anything but that empty space?

Pepper keeps the door closed.

And she assumes that Tony does the same, until one afternoon when she’s working in her office, and she hears Morgan from the living room, asking—

“Can we go see Peter?”

Pepper inhales sharply.

“Sure, little miss,” Tony says. “Which one do you want today?”

“It is I, Thor, son of Odin!”

“Alright, alright— You really love that one, don’t you? And remember to use your inside voice. Mommy’s working right now.”

“Thor, son of Odin!” Morgan says, slightly more quietly.

“Yup, got it. Your wish is my command.”

Pepper waits for a couple of minutes. She leans back in her office chair, breathing deep and slow. Then she asks FRIDAY to show her Peter’s room.

After all these years, the sight of it still makes her heart hurt. It gets worse when she spots Tony leaning against the wall with Morgan in his lap, both of them watching a holographic screen. Peter looks back out at them, wearing the Spider-Man mask and doing impressions to the camera.

He does a goofy Thor accent, and Morgan laughs.

Pepper shuts off the feed.

She puts her head in her hands. She wishes...

But, you can’t change the past.

When Pepper confronts Tony after Morgan has fallen asleep, he says that he’s just introducing her to the idea of Peter. He’s sorry for not discussing it with her first, but he didn’t think it was a big deal. Besides, their kid should know about him.

“But, does she know that—“

“I know our kid’s a genius, but two’s a little young for the mortality talk, don’t you think?”

And that’s the end of that conversation.

May talks about Peter a lot. He didn’t come live with her until he was a couple years older than Morgan is now, but May and her husband babysat frequently, so she has an unending amount of anecdotes about Peter when he was only as big as Morgan. The grief that lines May’s face never goes away, but at least she can smile now, when she tells Pepper about him.

Tony’s different. In many ways, he’s more private about his grief. When May comes over for brunch and the conversation inevitably slides over to Peter, Tony often has to leave the room. Every time Pepper mentions Peter in front of him, she feels like she’s digging into an open wound. Pepper doesn’t know how Tony even introduced Peter to Morgan, considering that he can hardly stand saying his name.

But, Tony keeps that room. And he takes Morgan there, again and again and again and again.

Morgan stops asking if there’s a monster behind that door.

Instead, she starts asking, “When’s Peter coming home?”

Eventually, it gets to be too much.

“Tony,” Pepper says, standing in the doorway. “We have to talk about this.”

“Do we, though?” Tony stands up and stretches. They’ve just put Morgan to bed, so now he’s tidying up the Legos they were playing with. Peter’s Legos. “Because I was thinking that we could discuss Morgan’s weird talent for summoning an army of earthworms every time she plays by the lake.”

“Tony.”

“Pepper.” 

“You should come with May and me to the Manhattan Chapter of the Compassionate Friends,” Pepper says. “We can all take a trip to the city on Saturday.”

“Not really my thing,” Tony pushes the tub of Legos back into place, making sure everything looks just disordered enough to fit the room of a teenage boy.

“They can help you. They’ve helped May a lot, and I—“

“I’m not going to move on, Pepper,” Tony says, voice brittle. “I’m never moving on from this, okay? I’m not going to— to leave him behind. I won’t do it. I can’t.”

Pepper’s eyes burn.

“Do you really think that’s what we’re doing?” She steps into the room and closes the door behind her, so she doesn’t risk waking Morgan when she says, “Do you really think that’s what May’s doing? Tony!”

Tony presses his lips together. He won’t meet her eyes.

Pepper cups his cheeks in both hands and turns his face towards hers.

“It’s not about moving on,” she says. “Or forgetting. We’re just trying to learn how to get through each day without him.”

“I am getting through each day without him,” Tony says.

“Then why are you still perpetuating this— this fantasy?” Pepper takes a step back, so she can throw her hands into the air. “When are you going to tell Morgan the truth?” she asks.

Tony falls silent.

Pepper keeps her eyes on him, so she doesn’t have to look at everything around her. Even the photo negatives from their wedding are splayed out on the desk, still waiting for their owner to come put them away.

God.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Pepper says. “You can’t keep pretending that he’s— just on a school trip! Morgan’s waiting for him to come back now! Just the other day, when we were buying pajamas, she asked me to buy him a pair, too, so they could match!” 

Pepper sees something in Tony’s face crack, so she steps forward again and tugs him into her arms. He holds her back with a strength that speaks of desperation.

“She really believes he’s coming back,” Pepper says, more quietly this time. “When are you going to tell her?”

“When he has a gravestone,” Tony mumbles into her shoulder.

“Tony,” Pepper exhales shakily. “We can’t—“

“Please,” Tony says. He sinks down to his knees and presses his cheek to her stomach, the same way he did before Morgan was born, and he needed reassurance that at least one of his kids was still alive and kicking. “Please, just give me one more year. One more year to let him be her brother—“ His breath hitches. “—Not a ghost.”

Pepper’s eyes are wet. She takes a deep breath, petting Tony’s hair.

When she’s sure that her voice won’t come out broken, Pepper says, “He’ll always be her brother.”

Tony’s arms tighten around her waist.

They both know that those words aren’t a comfort.


	7. have pity

When Natasha gets the call, her first instinct is to ask Tony if he’s drunk.

It’s unkind, but Natasha has seen a lot of death. Natasha has caused a lot of death. It’s not something people get used to. And after the team and Peter helped make Natasha a person again, it’s not something she’s used to anymore, either. 

People die in their line of work. That’s a given. But, it was never supposed to be Peter. Natasha had been prepared to ensure that it was never Peter.

She failed.

They failed him.

They’ve all mourned in waves. Natasha’s spent years clinging to the wreckage.

Tony’s still drowning.

So, when she gets the call, she has to ask—

“It’s really him?”

“Are you sure it isn’t—“ Steve begins hesitantly. He’s more familiar with having old friends come back from the dead, but Natasha knows that just means he’s more familiar with why they’re usually allowed to come back. “Someone might’ve—“

Tony cuts him off. “No, I—“

“You know what kind of technology is out there, Tony,” Sam adds cautiously. “If someone figured out—“

“If you guys could just—“

“It’s not a secret that he meant so much to—“

“Don’t,” Tony says. He inhales audibly. “I’m one hundred percent sure. I did the scans. I checked everything. It’s him. It’s really him. He’s alive. This whole time, he’s been alive.”

He’s alive.

Peter’s alive.

Natasha never let herself imagine that Peter was still alive. Occasionally, she would go to the rooftop of the community center and listen to the music from the open dance nights. Sometimes, she would rehearse the Apache tango alone, dancing with an invisible partner in the moonlight. But, she mostly just stayed in her apartment, waiting for her next mission. Just like before.

Had Peter been waiting, too? Waiting for someone to save him?

There’s a tangle of emotions rising in Natasha’s throat, but she doesn’t know what they are.

“How is he?” she asks.

“You won’t believe me until you see him,” Tony says, “but, God, he looks exactly the same. Well, his hair’s a bit longer, and he looks like shit. But, other than that. It’s like they froze him in fucking carbonate or— a block of ice or whatever.”

Natasha’s brow furrows.

“So, Thanos was keeping him for some reason,” she deduces.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I— Pete said some things, before he— Anyway, I’m still figuring it out, but it doesn’t seem like he was just asleep for four years. And he—“ Tony exhales shakily. “— I don’t think he remembers us. Me. He ran away, when he saw me.”

Natasha’s heart drops.

The line goes silent.

Then Bucky asks, “You or Iron Man?”

“Iron Man,” Tony says.

“…Do you think he was brainwashed?”

“I don’t know. I—“

“Keep an eye on him—” Steve says.

“Of course, I will. You—“

“But, don’t treat him like he’s dangerous,” Sam says. “There might be—“

Tony sounds irritated now. “Why would I even consider—“

“Tell us when he wakes up,” Natasha says over all of them. “Please,” she adds. “And be careful with him.”

Be careful, just in case it’s not really him. And if it is, be careful, just in case he’s been sent to hurt you. 

Either way, be careful not to hurt him. 

Natasha doesn’t know if Tony actually understands all of that, because he replies, “Okay, I will.”

Then Natasha’s phone picks up the sound of skin against linen, and Natasha silently curses Tony for not making this a video call.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve says. “I’ll try to get in touch with Quill and the Guardians, see if they know what’s going on.”

“Yup,” Tony says, sounding distracted. “We’ll be waiting.”

He hangs up.

Natasha ends the call, feeling like she’s just been kicked in the head. 

For a moment, she just sits and stares blankly into the air.

Then she picks up her jacket and moves towards the door.

If Peter’s really alive, she needs to confirm it for herself. And if he’s really forgotten everything, she needs to confirm that, too.

Natasha knows where the penthouse Tony stays in during Spider-Man Day is. She also knows how to sneak into that penthouse.

If it’s really Peter, then Natasha needs to see him. She wants to see him. It’s been so long.

Natasha wants to look him in the eye and tell him that she’s sorry.

But, she doesn’t know what she’ll do if she sees a stranger looking back at her.


	8. just let me stay here by your side

When Tony finds Peter bleeding out in his bathtub, his first thought is that he’s having another nightmare.

He’s had a lot of them over the past four years. There’s nothing like holding your kid in your arms while he disintegrates to refresh all your nightmare fuel. Tony’s watched Peter die over and over again. He’s heard Peter apologize, scream in agony, curse him for being alive while he stays dead, dead, dead.

But, the worst nights are the ones when Tony sleeps all the way through, and he wakes up well-rested and content until he remembers that Peter’s still gone.

Tony’s terrified of forgetting what his voice sounds like. No technology has perfect audio capture, not even the kind that gets put into super suits.

“F-Fuck,” Tony hisses, as he presses a towel to Peter’s wrist. It’s quickly becoming warm and heavy with his blood. 

Peter’s blood, all over Tony’s hands. 

He feels like he’s going to pass out.

“FRIDAY?”

“Mr. Wilson is on his way with a medkit.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Okay, okay, okay. You’re gonna be okay, kid.” He cups Peter’s cheek with one hand, lifting his face out of the shower spray. His skin is cold.

Ten minutes ago, Tony had thought that Peter being horrified by the sight of him, Peter crying and throwing up while trying to fight him, Peter falling out of the sky were the worst things he’d ever seen. He’d thought that the empty bed and open window in the penthouse were the things that would come closest to giving him a heart attack this year.

But, this.

Tony can already tell that he won’t be sleeping for months.

“What’s going o— Oh my God.”

“Shit, wha—“

“Peter—“

“Stark, I’m gonna need you to move—“

Sam shoulders Tony aside, so he can stop Peter from bleeding out. Tony steps back, steps away, steps himself all the way out to the kitchen, because even though he spent more than a decade as an active combatant, he’s never learned any first aid beyond sticking a Hello Kitty bandaid on a scrape. And doesn’t that just tell you what kind of fucking hero he is.

“I sent Morgan out to play before FRIDAY announced the alarm,” Pepper tells him. “What happened?”

“Peter,” Tony chokes out. “He—“

He can’t say it.

“Take Morgan back to the city,” Tony says instead. “Overnight. It’s— She can’t see Pete like this. You don’t want to see him like this. Please,” he adds, when Pepper’s eyes dart towards the hallway.

“What’s wrong with Peter? Is he—“

“Look, if you want to be able to walk into our bathroom again without imagining Peter taking a kitchen knife to his wrist in the tub, then take Morgan to the city and stay there until I give the okay.”

Pepper’s face goes pale.

“Sorry,” Tony says. “But, please.”

Slowly, Pepper nods.

“Keep me updated,” she says.

Tony doesn’t remember if he agrees or not before he’s rushing back to the bathroom.

It’s all a blur. Gauze and blood and towels, and they finally get that Spider-Man suit off of the kid. They find the infected wounds on his feet and the low blood sugar that’s keeping him knocked out, and the mantra of  _ Peter’s alive, Peter’s alive, Peter’s still alive— _ that has been thrumming through Tony’s brain for the past couple days is the only thing that keeps him from having a panic attack.

Once everything bloody has been bandaged, they move Peter to his room and lay him in his bed. It’s simultaneously Tony’s worst nightmare and a dream come true.

He’s been living with the ghost of Peter Parker for so long that he’s not entirely sure that this isn’t a hallucination conjured up by his broken brain.

Peter in the Spider-Man Day crowd, looking like he hasn’t aged a day.

Peter in the penthouse, crying and saying Tony’s name.

Peter in the yard, running around with Morgan like the kid he’s always been.

Peter in the room Tony keeps for him as part of a desperate fantasy where Morgan still has a brother and May still has a nephew and Tony still has the kid.

Peter, alive.

Peter, an inch away from death  _ again. _

“He’s going to be okay,” Steve says gently.

Tony whirls around.

“You think this is okay?” he says. “Look at him. Look at his face. Does he look okay to you? I told you— I knew we needed to give him the time to—“

“We don’t know if he has that time,” Steve explains. Tony can tell that he’s upset, too, and that he didn’t intend for this to happen, but so the fuck what? Right now, instead of enjoying a long overdue brunch with the family, Tony’s kid is trying to replenish half the blood in his body, because some people just couldn’t give them one hour to not think about genocidal aliens. “We have no idea what Thanos did to him.”

“Yeah, well, his face is an open book, so I know enough, alright? You shouldn’t have— All you had to do was trust me with him.” Tony jabs his index finger into Steve’s chest. 

“He’s not one of your soldiers,” Tony says. “He’s just a kid.”

My kid, Tony doesn’t say.

“He’s a kid who’s been gone for years, and he doesn’t remember who he is, and he’s lost and hurt and confused, and he needs us— the people who love him— not the Avengers right now. Him being alive? That’s a miracle. So, I cannot fucking believe—“ Tony raises his hands into the air. ”— that we came this close to losing him. Again.”

Steve lowers his eyes.

No one says anything.

Tony turns back to the bed.

“Give me some time alone with him,” he says.

“Tony—“

“Get out. Go.”

A pause. Then Tony hears everyone troop out the door.

Except for one.

“Go, Natasha.”

She steps closer instead, reaching out. She brushes Peter’s drying curls out of his eyes.

Tony pulls up the chair from Peter’s desk and slumps into it.

He puts his head in his hands.

“It’s not Steve’s fault,” Natasha says.

“I know.”

“It’s not your fault either.”

Tony doesn’t say anything.

“He’s going to need a lot of help after this,” Natasha says. “But, we’ll all be there for him. And he’s strong. He’s going to be okay, Tony.”

Tony leans his elbows onto Peter’s bed, like he’s praying. 

He takes a deep breath.

Natasha closes the door behind herself.

Under the light from the window, Peter looks small and pale. But, his expression is smooth. And he’s breathing.

When Tony takes his right hand, it’s warm.

He’s alive.

These past few days— these past few hours— have been unbelievable. Tony’s been oscillating between elation and horror so frequently that he’s surprised that he can still feel his feelings.

But, the pain and tenderness and overwhelming joy that comes from seeing Peter— That’s still there.

“You’re killing me, kid,” Tony whispers.

Four years. Four years without him. Four years of trying to keep all of him together, trying not to forget a single thing, trying to keep his memory alive. Four years of trying to ignore that tiny flame of hope, which kept Tony building and inventing and looking and waiting.

Tony used to sit in this very chair, tinkering with his latest detector, surrounded by videos of Peter, surrounded by Peter’s voice, and he’d wonder if he was going crazy. 

But, here he is.

Peter’s alive.

Now, all Tony has to do is keep him.

Tony presses his lips to the back of Peter’s hand.

Then, he straightens up in his chair, eyes never leaving Peter’s face.

Peter’s alive.

Tony can wait a little longer for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: the macaroni incident
> 
> On the drawing board: an aftermath
> 
> Keep an eye out for me tomorrow (if I can get my shit together), and as always, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> guys. when i asked for prompts, i thought y'all would request funny things. i had ten percent of that macaroni fire incident all planned out. but some people (you know who you are) wanted to ride the pain train, so i did my best to flag it down. ask and you shall receive. you're welcome.


End file.
